


A Warchief’s Charge

by Aulynduel



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Character Development, Character Study, Daddy Issues, Drabble, Flash Fic, Gen, Introspection, Orcs, Orgrimmar, Parental Expectations, References World of Warcraft: The Shattering, Short One Shot, The Weight of a Legacy, World of Warcraft: Cataclysm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26471980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aulynduel/pseuds/Aulynduel
Summary: Training alone, Garrosh considers the weight of his heritage, the shadow of his father, and the doubts that end up plaguing him to the end.





	A Warchief’s Charge

_“I charge you with being the best of your father, Garrosh.”_

The young orc’s gut churned and his heart pounded, as if it pumped fear and pride through his veins instead of blood.

He swung the axe as he had moments after those words, letting its scream momentarily calm the ache in his chest. Once the sound dissipated, the dull pain returned two fold. He sliced at the air again, another piercing cry filling his ears.

Practiced feet kicked up the dry, orange dust of Durotar, the orc a single figure atop one of the rock faces above Orgrimmar. Garrosh twisted, cutting into an imaginary foe as his topknot slapped across his back, brown skin warm and shining with sweat as the sun peaked its first fiery sliver over the horizon.

The dirt reminded him bitterly of why Thrall had settled there. It was why he’d trained in such a place each morning since he’d arrived; as a reminder, though not a pleasant one, of what his people lacked.

They deserved so much more. Perhaps soon, they could have everything they’d ever needed.

He focused once more on movement of the weapon, distracting himself. For the moment.

Gorehowl was meant for him, that much was clear. The weight was just on the good side of heavy, the blade was expertly balanced; it felt more right than anything he’d ever carried.

Yet, Garrosh struck the air with one hand as if the limb were a weapon itself, and then hefted the mighty axe, growling with frustration afterward. He’d used two smaller axes for so long; truly attuning himself to this particular weapon was a welcome challenge.

A breeze whistled and made the weapon in his fist keen softly, almost as if it was teasing him. Perhaps it was even his father, instructing him like Garrosh silently wished he could. He chuckled, smirking slightly as the sun bathed him in heat.

His smirk faded as he looked down into the massive city below him. Warm light spilled in, cutting the shade of early morning, breathing life through the streets. Shops opened, warriors started their daily maneuvers and people lived.

“You expect too much of me, Warchief Thrall…” He muttered lowly, feeling the weight of Gorehowl on his shoulder more than ever.

How could he be the best of someone he’d never known.


End file.
